


Beautiful

by shaenie



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-11
Updated: 2002-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has never been beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I do believe this was my first piece of fanfiction ever.

John didn't see Elijah or Orlando, though the rest of them were there, drinking, laughing. Ian was even there, teasing Viggo about his cigar, eyes sparkling with good humor and alcohol.

John hadn't really meant to come. He stroked the skin under his eyes, smoothed it, tried to ignore the sting. He knew what it looked like. Red and chafed looking, irritated, swollen. He looked a bit like a dwarf, with his face swollen as it was. From the makeup, of course, the bloody makeup, which he hated, loathed, went to bed at night cursing, woke up in the morning dreading. It was some kind of allergic reaction. They couldn't figure out to what, exactly, had tried different things in different combinations. There was nothing to do. He wasn't going to back out over a bit of tender, peeling skin, so he'd just have to bear it.

He watched his friends, smiling a little, but not really joining in. He liked them all, loved them really, but there was something . . . . He rubbed at his eyes again. Caught Ian looking, and beamed at the man.

Didn't work.

Ian came over, sat down next to him on the couch, clearly concerned. "Are you all right, John?" Ian asked softly.

"Perfectly fine, Ian," John answered, and it was true, very true. Here he was, surrounded by the people he most wanted to be surrounded with. Everyone was smiling, even Ian was smiling, in spite of his worry. He was comfortable with them, they were comfortable with him. Why wouldn't he be all right? He caught himself rubbing at the tender skin beneath his eyes and forced his hand away. That skin felt thin and scraped. The makeup took layers of skin with it, whenever it was removed. Sometimes it felt like it would take it all, and then his eyes would simply slide out of their sockets to dangle against his cheeks.

He hadn't really meant to come, but in the end, he had. Couldn't make himself stay away. In spite of everything, it felt good to be here, with them. It felt right.

It took a few minutes to convince Ian that he really was fine. Even then, it was more Ian's willingness to believe than anything John said that convinced him. Ian returned to the rest of the gathering, and John sat back to watch.

Elijah made an appearance, finally, bounding in, passing hugs and kisses about like he hadn't seen any of them in years. John was not surprised when Elijah flung himself onto his lap, arms twining around his neck. He kissed John's cheek, but gently, aware of his tender skin. He was holding a glass of clear liquid, which he lifted to his lips. Then he paused, grinning, mischief in his eyes. "Tequila," he murmured, hamming John's accent. "Very dangerous. You go first."

He held the glass to John's lips, and John swallowed the spicy, potent mouthful, because what else could he do, with Elijah looking at him like that, grinning, happy, but also worried. Worried like Ian. Worried about John.

"Only dangerous to hobbits," John declared, licking spicy liquor off his lips. He hated tequila. "Dwarves can drink anything."

Laughing, Elijah kissed his cheek again, then bounced away in search of more tequila.

He hated tequila, but he liked Elijah, so he smiled.

John was thinking about leaving when Orlando finally showed up carrying a sporty backpack. He was wearing another of his infamous shirts, some shiny blue-green material that somehow managed to both cling and gape. This one had funny squiggles on it that reminded John of ideograms. John watched as Orlando was hugged, kissed, groped by Dominic, all while laughing good-naturedly.

He was not surprised when Orlando flopped onto the couch beside him, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, leg cocked indolently. "Brought you somethin', yeah?" Orlando said, both eager and shy.

"I'm all anticipation, Master Bloom," John said, and he was.

Orlando grinned, eagerness winning out over shyness, and bent sideways off the couch to rummage in the backpack he had dropped beside it. Orlando's shirt gaped, and John looked. Why not. Everyone looked at Orlando.

It was a bottle, dark and oddly shaped, and John took it when Orlando thrust it at him, aware that Orlando was again both shy and eager. He could feel Orlando watching him, waiting for his reaction.

It was Cognac. Very good Cognac, and John felt himself grinning in genuine delight.

For a moment, his face didn't hurt.

"A princely gift, Master Elf," John said, smiling, making the mistake of meeting Orlando's eyes.

Orlando was grinning too, delighted, a little smug ... and worried.

About John.

After Orlando wandered off, John cradled the coolness of the glass in both hands.

John had never been beautiful.

Even without the peeling skin from the reaction to makeup, even as a young man, when his body had been slim and hard, he had never been beautiful.

And it had never bothered him before.


End file.
